


Scabby Queen

by greycoupon



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Friendship, Gen, Maeve has been through a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21843787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greycoupon/pseuds/greycoupon
Summary: Five times someone was there for Maeve and one time she was there for someone else.
Relationships: Aimee Gibbs & Maeve Wiley, Otis Milburn & Maeve Wiley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Scabby Queen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMuseReturns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMuseReturns/gifts).



> My first Yuletide! The prompt was for a softer Maeve and I hope I did that justice. Thanks to postmodernpromartheus and @CallMeScully for the beta help.

**ONE** : When Maeve was six her mother had found them a place to live in council housing.. It was a ratty, little two bedroom made of crumbling brick, but Maeve was so used to moving around that it was heaven to finally settle down. She and Sean had to share a room, but that was okay because she had a bed and a bookshelf of her very own. Sean made fun of her for always reading and often threatened to throw her books away. Maeve was so much smarter than him and they both knew it. He resented like hell how easily she soaked up knowledge and came up with her own ideas while he struggled just to read his workbooks. Even though he was two years older and much bigger, she had no problem telling him she would kick his ass if he touched a single one of her books. 

If only a teacher had seen past his behavior and had him evaluated for learning difficulties, he may have studied, too, instead of camping out on the couch watching television and playing video games all the time. 

For her birthday, that year, her mother had baked a cake. Not the kind from a box. She got the recipe out of an actual cookbook and made it from scratch. Maeve wanted to help with the preparation, but her mother had gently shooed her out of the kitchen to go play video games with Sean.

They couldn’t afford to have a real party, but the neighbors, Jake and Melissa, a young married couple who ran a bookshop, did come over with a carefully wrapped present. They sat in the living room and chatted while Mum finished the cake. Finally she called them all into the kitchen.

“What do you think, Maeve?” her mom asked her, almost sounding...nervous? On the table was the most beautiful cake Maeve had ever seen. Not that she had a ton of experience with cakes, but she had seen the pretty ones at the store and on those baking shows her mum would watch on television. Maeve thought it looked just as good as the cakes at the CK Supermarket.

Mum had put six candles on top and lit them. Maeve sat up straight in the chair as everyone sang “Happy Birthday” to her. Even Sean sang, though he did kind of grunt it. She blew all her candles out in one puff. Mum gave her a hug and smiled at her as Melissa took photos.

“What did you wish for?” Mum asked. Maeve panicked. She was supposed to wish for something?

Seeing Maeve’s distress, her mother laughed softly and kissed her on the cheek.

“It’s alright if you don’t know. Good things always come to birthday girls.”.

After everyone ate cake, it was time for presents. Maeve had two. The neighbors had given her a sweater which she thought was boring, but she smiled and thanked them when Mum prompted her to.

Mum hadn’t had time to wrap the gift from her and Sean. It was a book. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. “We can read it together,” Mum promised her.

And they did. Every night for weeks after she came home from her shop job, Mum would crawl into Maeve’s tiny bed with her and read out loud the adventures of the Pevensie children in Narnia. Maeve dreamed of visiting such a magical place, but she didn’t have a closet, let alone a wardrobe. Reading that book always reminded her of closeness with her mother. She would hold onto the book through move after move even as the spine cracked and pages became worn. When things were bad and mum had taken off or was drugged out of her mind, she would crawl under the covers with the book and read to remember. 

**TWO:** Over the years, Maeve and Sean would come to find their mother passed out on the floor, often with the needle still in her arm. Maeve remembered the first time. She was six and it was her second week of year one. She had gone to her mum and thought she was sleeping.

“Mummy, mummy...wake up. You have to make dinner for us. I’m hungry.” She shook her, but there was no response. Mum stayed still like she was dead, but dead people lived in coffins, in cemeteries and were really old. Mums weren’t allowed to die.

Sean was still standing frozen by the front door. Maeve lifted a shaking hand to her Mum’s face and placed her fingers under her mother’s nose. She almost screamed with relief when she felt the air coming out of her nostrils. That meant Mum was okay.

Maeve saw the needle sticking out of her Mum’s arm. She remembered being taken to the doctor many times to get a shot even when she wasn’t sick. Mum would tell her it would only hurt for a second, then the doctor would stick her with it and throw it in the trash. Used needles were trash. Mum was always telling them the house was a pigsty. 

“Why can’t you kids ever clean up after yourselves? You always make the place a wreck.” she would yell, not mentioning the floor was littered with cigarette butts and empty beer cans.

Maeve thought maybe Mum got tired while she was cleaning and it was naptime. She would act like a grown up and help clean. That would make Mum happy. Maeve always wanted to make Mum happy.

She reached out to pick up the needle when she felt a sharp pain in her scalp as she was suddenly yanked backwards by the hair.

“That’s diamorphine. Don’t touch that! Are you stupid?” Sean was shaking her and almost vibrating with anger, but she could see the fear in his eyes. He pulled her away and toward the phone.

“Needles are bad! You never touch needles,” he told her. Without letting go of her hand, he grabbed the phone and called 999. While they waited for the paramedics he led her into the kitchen and sat next to her in a chair never letting go of her hand.

“Maeve, you have to leave Mum alone when she’s like this. Those shots could hurt you.” His voice softened as he put an arm around her shoulders to give her a brief hug. Maeve peered at her brother. She had never seen him so serious. Sean was never serious about anything.

But he was today.

“Promise me you will never touch needles, They are poison.” He squeezed her just a bit too hard for emphasis.

“I promise,” she told him just as they heard the wail of the approaching ambulance siren.

This would become a very familiar sight over the years, but Maeve never did touch a needle again. 

**THREE:** One day in December during year three, her teacher, Ms. Watson announced they were going to have a Christmas party.

“It will be on the last day of school before we go on holiday. Every student is required to bring something to participate. If you don’t bring something, you don’t get to eat,” she told them as she passed out a sign-up form.

Maeve squirmed. Mum had just been telling her last night not to waste her dinner because they wouldn’t have money for groceries for two more weeks. Maeve crumpled up the form and shoved it her backpack.

That night Mum came home tired and upset.

“They cut my hours. The owner’s daughter is home from uni and needed a job so of course they were happy to drop mine,” she told her boyfriend, Steven, who was flopped out on the couch. Maeve didn’t tell her about the party. 

On the day of the party, she went to school full of apprehension. She thought about pretending to be sick so she could go home early, but then Mum would have to leave work early to get her.

“Okay, everyone. It’s time for our party. When I call your name please bring up the item you brought,” Ms. Watson told them.

Maeve stared down at her desk and didn’t notice Asha looking at her. One by one, students were called up and Watson checked their names off her list.

“Maeve, what did you bring?” her teacher asked and everyone in the class looked at her. Maeve swallowed and swore she would not cry.

“She brought crisps and dip!” Asha announced, holding up a shopping bag. “I just helped her carry them in this morning.”

Maeve and Asha weren’t friends. They had barely ever spoken. Maeve looked at the other girl in confusion and Asha just smiled back. In a different life perhaps this would have been the beginning of a lifelong friendship. Perhaps Maeve would have really found someone to help support her through the difficulty of her life. But this isn’t that kind of story. Asha was just a little girl extending a small kindness. She never had any idea how big of an impact it had on Maeve. Even though the two of them didn’t become friends after this, when Asha’s family moved away the following summer, Maeve felt the gaping loss as though she had lost her best friend.

 **FOUR:** On the first day of year ten, Maeve slunk into English class and took the only seat available next to Aimee whose big smile only managed to set Maeve’s nerves on end. Maeve took out her well worn notebook and pen. She noticed Aimee’s desk was bare and she was busy on her phone.

English class was the one class Maeve actually liked. Well, when the teacher wasn’t a jerk and the reading wasn’t all dead white dudes. The assigned readings were usually stuff she had already read for fun so it didn’t take that much effort. She would never admit it out loud, but she found writing papers actually kind of enjoyable. It was a way to prove she knew things and it was a hell of a confidence booster.

She tuned back in just in time to hear Ms. Hendrix utter the dreaded phrase “group project” and the resulting groans from her classmates. She sighed inwardly. She would never approach anyone else to work with her and everyone knew that if they picked Maeve it would be social suicide. Usually she would just ask the teacher if she could work alone.

“You will work on the project all semester and your partner will be whoever you are sitting next to. Sorry, no switching.”

Someone threw a wadded up piece of paper that hit Ms. Hendrix square in the face. She pretended not to notice.

“You’re Maeve, right?” She frowned at Aimee, whose face fell.

“I’m sorry. Did I get your name wrong? I thought you were the girl who…” Aimee trailed off and grabbed a notebook from her bag. The directions from their teacher weren’t worthy of writing down, but she absolutely wanted to make sure she had a record of Maeve’s correct name.

“No, Maeve is my name,” she told her.

“I thought that was so. Do you want to get together later and work on this? I don’t understand most of the book stuff, but I know you’re really smart. Just tell me what I should be doing.” After a moment she hastily added, “I mean, I don’t expect you to do all the work. I’ll do my share. Just point me in the right direction and I will get there. Eventually. I can’t actually read a compass, but my GPS gives great directions.” 

They met at Aimee’s house that night. Maeve barely managed to not gape at the size of the place.

“My parents are out of town,” she told Maeve as they walked up the stairs to Aimee’s room.

As they settled in Maeve’s room, Aimee asked her “Are you from Moordale? We only moved here a few months ago. I’m trying to meet as many people as I can. I love people.” She realized she was rambling and laughed a bit.

Maeve was getting the feeling she was really as guileless as she seemed. Maeve was suspicious of everyone by nature, but Aimee was just nice and happy.

“Do you have any cards? I’ll teach you to play Scabby Queen and tell you all about the school.”

Maeve had seen Aimee hanging around the Untouchables at lunch. She knew the girl’s social status would certainly soon well eclipse her own. That was all right. Long after the project was over, Aimee would come to her just to play cards.

 **FIVE:** Otis hadn’t asked questions. She had asked him to meet her after school and he had just shown up. She realized him wearing a suit meant he thought it was something else entirely. But that was the thing.

Lots of guys would have shown up not knowing what was going on. But Otis had stayed even when she told him to leave. He hadn’t judged her or asked questions. He just waited and mediated the anti-choice protesters because Otis really did have a compulsion to help absolutely anyone with relationship trouble. He brought her a sandwich and flowers like she has broken a bone and just needed cheering up.

He never brought it up again. He never asked if Jackson knew. He just accepted her as she was and that was everything.

 **And ONE:** Ruby was right. Otis Milburn did look just like a Victorian ghost. He would be right at home among the characters in a Brontë novel. He was unassuming and that made him safe. No wonder half the school felt comfortable sharing their sexual dysfunctions with him; he was about as threatening as a muppet.

She wasn’t sure she loved him, but she knew him. Inside and out. And he knew her. All the jagged messy parts. Especially those. He was the one person she was sure wouldn’t judge her. He was about as pure of a soul as a 16 year old boy could be. She was still angry with him for giving Jackson advice, though. 

Maeve didn’t want to fall on her proverbial sword and go down as the school “drug dealer”; giving up on her dreams. She didn’t have some romantic day dream that Otis was the love of her life, but he had never and would never intentionally hurt anyone. His goal, (mostly, as he was still a teenage boy) with the clinic was to help people. She was the one all about the money. 

But Otis going down for something that had been her idea in the first place and because her brother was a selfish arse, was wrong. It was time for one of those grand gestures Otis thought she hated so much. No, it wasn’t fair to her when they had done nothing wrong. But Sean had blown out of town and Headmaster Groff wanted someone to pin his manufactured conspiracy on.

She would take the fall, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going down without a fight.


End file.
